Leave Me Lying Here
by MulticoloredTwins
Summary: AU! It's been 11 years since Dean has last seen Sam. Now a tragedy has forced the brothers to reunite, and it just might be strong enough to keep them together this time around. Hurt!Sam, Hurt!Dean, Abusive!John
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first story, and it's a really strange one. And just to clear things up it is totally AU, there's no demons or anything in this story. And I'm sorry John is so out of character. I like John! I swear I do! But he just had to be like this for the story to work! I'm sorry!**

Chapter 1

There are times when Dean wishes things could have been different.

11:03

Mostly it's times like these. Sitting in a dark room, staring at the clock, not being able to decide whether he wanted it to move faster or slower. It's the times when he has the opportunity to think about what caused all the problems in his life, what made him into the person he was today. He wishes he could just blame his father, and that could be the end of it, but he knows that isn't entirely fair. Part of it, at least, was his fault.

And another part, sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger, was his brother's.

11:05

Sam. Just thinking about his brother sends a rush of emotions soaring through him. He wonders what Sam looks like know. It's been eleven years since he's seen him. Eleven years that feel like eleven thousand lifetimes. He couldn't count the number of times he'd wanted to pick up the phone and call his brother, but there was a greater fear that held him back. What if Sam wasn't alone? What Dad eavesdropped on the call? _What if he doesn't _want_ to talk to me?_

So, in the end, he had never called. Not once.

11:09

Instead, Jessica had called him. Jessica. He remembered her as a small girl with blonde hair and big eyes. Sam had had an enormous crush on her for as long as he could remember, and although he had never said so, to his brother, he could tell that she liked him back. It was obvious in the way she would watch him when he wasn't looking. The way she would always stand up for him, no matter what the situation. But Sam had been hopelessly shy as a child, and had never approached Jess with his feelings.

He was happy to realize that, eventually, Sam had overcome his insecurity.

11:11

They had gotten married. Jess and Sam had gotten married. Three years ago, and no one had bothered to call him about it. They had a child together. His Sammy was a father. _I'm an uncle_. That was why Jess had called. She had finally tracked Dean down, and decided that he and Sam had to see each other again. _He's miserable without you, _She had said_, and if I remember anything about you, Dean, I can bet that you're miserable too. _He had flatly denied it on the phone, but the truth was, he was miserable. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. He needed to see Sammy.

Which is why he'd agreed to letting her and Sam come over tonight.

11: 14

She said they would be there by eleven, with Johnny. Johnny. He couldn't believe, after everything they had been through, after everything their father had put them through, Sam had named his child after their dad. It was unthinkable to Dean. He wasn't sure if he could ever warm up to someone named after their father. But he would have to try. For Sam's sake. He thought for a while, about the child. He wondered how he would look. Would he take more after his mother, or his father? If he looked anything like Sam at two years old, he had no doubt the child would be adorable. But what about Sam? How much had he changed, in the years since they had seen each other? And had he changed for the better, or for the worse?

Knowing his father, it was probably for the worst.

11:18

He didn't know why he was worrying like this. He was happy to be seeing Sam again. Really he was. But he wasn't sure how Sam would react to seeing him. He pictured the Sam he knew. The twelve-year-old kid with the bright eyes, that unquenchable thirst for knowledge that had always caused him to steal the hearts of his teachers within the first few days of school. He wondered sometimes, how none of them had ever suspected anything. How could you ignore something like that for so many years? He didn't know. He hoped Sam had been alright, during the years that he had been gone, that was all he was hoping for.

It was almost enough to get him to pray. Almost.

11:22

He wondered why they weren't here yet. It was almost half an hour since they said they'd be here. He thought of a thousand reasons why they could have been late. _They started a bit later than they thought they would, they hit traffic, they had to stop so Johnny could use the bathroom._ Ordinary, perfectly reasonable explanations for their delay. But somehow, he didn't believe in them.

With their family, it was always something more.

11:25

The phone rang. Dean could hear it echoing through the house, but didn't get up to answer it. Bobby would answer it. Bobby would take care of it. He had been taking care of Dean for the last eleven years, ever since he showed up on his doorstep. Dean had felt guilty for years, feeling he had taken advantage of the old man. He'd tried to somehow repay the kindness for years, but could never find something that he thought was a suitable payback. But he didn't see Bobby's concern as a debt to be payed anymore. He had enough guilt in his life without that added to it.

His father had made sure of that.

11: 28

Bobby was coming. He could hear the man's heavy footsteps approaching, and wondered what the phone call had been about. Maybe it had been Jess calling, saying that they had decided not to come after all, and not to wait for them.

"Dean?" Bobby entered the room.

Dean glanced up at the man, and immediately knew something was wrong. He looked so upset.

"There's been an accident."

_~_~_~

"_Dean are you sure you don't need help with your homework?"_

_Sam and Dean sat in the grass at the front of the school, hours after it had been dismissed. Dean had been working on the English assignment for half an hour, and had barely moved to write anything down more than two or three times. Sam, being observant as he was, had noticed, and had been bugging Dean for just as long, asking if he needed any help. Jesus, it took all of his patience to deal with this kid sometimes. _

"_Yes, Sammy, I'm sure I don't need any help."_

_Dean replied for the hundredth time. Sam scowled as he moved to pick up his own homework._

"_It's Sam. Jerk."_

"_Whatever. Bitch." Dean remarked, distractedly, rereading the passage in the book for about the millionth time that afternoon. Why was this so difficult? Sometimes he wished school came as easily to him as it did to Sammy. It sure would make this part of his life a hell of a lot easier._

_He watched his brother over the edge of the book as he finished the last of his math homework. He could tell by the way Sam was clutching the pencil that the kid's wrist was still sore from last night. He winced in sympathy. He himself had a pretty bad bump on the back of his head as well, a testament to John's irrational anger at them._

_Sometimes he honestly couldn't think of a single thing he had done that could have possibly pissed off his father. But half the time, it didn't make a difference. He understood that, and he knew Sammy did too._

"_Dean?" Dean was pulled out of his thoughts by his brother's voice, "Shouldn't we be headed home right about now?"_

_He checked his watch. It was 5:47. John usually got home at around 6:30 and it was a fifteen minute walk home from the school._

"_Yeah," He murmured, putting the book away, and grabbing his backpack, "Let's get out of here."_

_~_~_

It was 9:58, and they were about twenty minutes from Bobby's house. An hour earlier than they said they'd be. Sam wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He glanced at Johnny in the rearview mirror. The child was asleep, his teddy bear clutched in his arms. He had curled itself around the thing.

Sometimes, Sam thought it was impossible, that someone so small and innocent could have possibly come out of their wreck of a family. He looked at little Johnny, and couldn't that he shared part of his genes with him or his grandfather. The child didn't look much like him, not in his opinion, although Jess said otherwise. She claimed that Johnny was practically the spitting image of him when he was two, except for the hair color.

But he couldn't help but hope that Johnny hadn't inherited too many of his genes. He wanted his child to be as different from him, and as much like his mother as possible. Maybe that would give him more of a chance of surviving normally in this world.

"Are you alright?" Jess was watching him, concerned, from the passenger seat.

"I'm fine," He lied, turning his attention back to the road.

"Liar," Jessica smiled faintly, "You're a wreck, aren't you?"

There were more cars that he expected on the road at this hour. Maybe the fact that he had been taking care of a baby for the last two years had made him forget that most people had a life that didn't revolve around a being that went to sleep fairly early, if they were lucky enough to get him to sleep through the whole night.

"Maybe," He admitted, "But I can't help it. Jess, he must hate me."

"Why would he hate you?" Jess demanded, "You haven't done anything."

"I got to stay. And he had to leave."

"He would be a lunatic for hating anyone but your father for that." Jessica said coldly.

"Maybe," Sam repeated, "But maybe not."

It was silent for a few moments, and Sam listed to sound of Johnny breathing in the backseat. He wondered what would have happened if his father hadn't died three years ago, drunk driving. Would he have ever had the courage, to go to Jessica and start a family together, if he still had the shadow of his father hanging over his head? He doubted it. He could never imagine forcing a child, much less his child, to ever have any sort of relationship with John Winchester.

"You think too much," Jess's voice broke though his thoughts.

Sam smiled, "I know."

And that was when he heard it.

It was funny, when Sam would think about it, that he heard the car before he saw its headlights, but that was what had happened, he heard the roar of the engine only moments before the illuminated the inside of his car until it was bright as day. He vaguely remembered hearing Jessica scream his name but was only half aware of it. He was already unconscious.

_~_~_

He hated waiting. Particularly waiting in hospital waiting rooms. When they were kids, and Sammy or him had actually gotten injured badly enough for John to realize that they needed hospital, this was always the worst part. It was always the fear for the person in the hospital, mixed of course, with the fear of having his father there, sitting in the chair right next to him, doing something as normal as flipping through a magazine, pretending he had nothing to do with the injury in question.

He would think that know, without John there, the waiting room would be easier to handle, but instead it was worse. Mainly because now he had more people to worry about that just Sammy. There was his wife, and his child. The thought that Sam's baby could have been killed in car accident that had only occurred because they were coming to see Dean, broke Dean's heart in a way that he didn't think was possible anymore.

Then again, there was always the possibility of losing Jess. He wondered if Sam would hate him, if Jess died because Sam was coming to visit him. If he would think that it was Dean's fault he had lost the person he had dreamt about marrying since he was ten years old and Jess had just moved here. He had a feeling he would.

But of course the worst thing would be losing Sammy. He couldn't imagine being this close to seeing his brother for the first time in eleven years, and then missing out because of this stupid car accident. He would never be able to see Sam grown up, never be able to apologize for letting him down all those years ago. Because sitting here, he saw that he probably had let his brother down, it didn't matter if it was his father who had really done the deed, he should have found some way to reconnect to Sammy afterward. Because now it might be too late.

He watched Bobby converse with the doctor on the other side of the room. He couldn't see Bobby's face, but he was hoping beyond hope that there was some mistake. That none of Sam's new family were even at this hospital. That they were all 100% fine, and waiting for them out in the parking lot.

Bobby turned around, and Dean saw that his expression was grim. He knew that something had happened. Why couldn't any if their family ever be happy, even for a short amount of time, without something going wrong?

"What is it?" He asked, anxiously as Bobby approached, "Is it Sam?"

Bobby shook his head and Dean felt marginally relieved, but only for a split second, "Then who?"

"It's Jess." Bobby admitted, "Dean, she's dead."

**Wow. I bet you didn't see that coming *sarcasm*. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I'll put the second one up as soon as I can. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's the 2****nd**** chapter! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it.**

**On another note, I'm sorry for the lack of Sam's point of view in this chapter. I didn't even realize it until right now, but this chapter is all from Dean's POV. Sam's POV will be back next chapter. **

**Anyway, on to the story.**

Chapter 2

Jess was dead.

Well, brain dead, at least. Dean had gotten the room number of where they were keeping her for now, and was trying to draw up the courage to go visit the room. He knew that Sam and his son were uninjured except a few bumps and bruises, which meant that they'd be waiting in the room too. Dean wasn't sure he was ready to see his brother yet. Especially if his brother had just lost his wife, and it was because of him.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned the corner to the room. The first thing he saw was the small boy with blonde hair clutching onto a teddy bear, staring at the open door. Dean felt his breath catch as he looked little face. He looked so much like Sam at that age! The same tiny mouth and nose, the same unexplainable dependency on a stuffed animal, the same unbelievably sad hazel eyes. The main difference was that the boy's hair was longer and curly rather than straight like Sam's at that age.

Dean stood there for about half a minute, just surveying his brother's adorable son, before he remembered why he was here. Before he could step forward and speak up, he heard a voice from inside the room.

"Johnny?"

Realizing this must be his brother, Dean's heart clenched at the sadness he heard in the voice.

"Come in here."

There were footsteps, and then Sam appeared in the doorway, kneeling down, arms open for Johnny to climb into. The little boy all but ran into Sam's outstretched arms, and Sam held him close for a moment, before glancing up, and noticing Dean.

"Oh," He murmured, "I—"

And then he suddenly broke off. Dean knew that Sam was making connections in his head. He was realizing who Dean must be.

There was a moment of silence, then "Hi, Sammy." Dean finally said quietly.

Sam was staring at him in shock, and Dean couldn't help but stare right back. Sam had grown up! He wasn't the same skinny little kid he had been when Dean had left. He was taller now, although he had always been tall, and more fit. But Dean couldn't help but notice that his face was streaked with tears.

"Dean," Sam whispered back, just as quietly, and then smiled, "How many times do I have to tell you it's Sam! Jerk!"

Dean smiled back, "I'll try to remember that. Bitch."

"Daddy," Johnny suddenly interrupted them, staring at Dean with the kind of fascination only a child could have, "Where's Mommy?"

Sammy froze in shock, "Mom—," He mumbled, "She—Mommy…"

Turning around he took Johnny inside, and Dean followed apprehensively. He heart broke when he saw Jessica's body. She had grown up too. Gone were the little pigtails and crooked teeth. She had really grown beautiful while he was gone. And he could only assume that Sam's interest in her had gone up with the years as well. And now she was dead. And it was Dean's fault.

He wants to know what Sam and Jess's wedding was like. He also wants to know what memory of her Sam was picturing as he stared at her body. Was it one from long enough ago that Dean would remember it? Or would it be something more recent, more of a milestone, like their prom night, however cliché that sounded, or when he first found out she was pregnant? Their wedding night, perhaps? Some simple little disaster that had occurred on their first date? He wondered how much of this part of his brother's life he had missed in the last eleven years.

"Daddy," It's Johnny again, tugging on Sam's collar trying to get his father to look at him, "Daddy?"

Sam had tears in his eyes once again when he turned to face Johnny, and Dean found himself ducking quickly out of the room, not wanting to interrupt this very private moment between father and son. He rushed around the corner, and ran into Bobby, who apparently had been following him.

"Did you talk to Sam?" he demanded.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, sort of…" He thought about the last time he had seen his brother his face holding the same expression he had seen on it moments before, "Bobby, this is my fault."

Bobby stares at him as if he's being ridiculous, "Your fault?" He repeated, "Dean, how can any of this possibly be your fault? It's not as if you crashed that car into them!"

Dean knew that. Knew that Bobby would try to make excuses for him, but he couldn't take it right now.

"Bobby, I was the one who refused to drive out there to meet him," He pointed out, "If I had just driven back to Lawrence to see Sam, instead of making him and his family come out here, then Jess would still be alive." He met Bobby's eyes, "How is that _not_ my fault?"

Bobby gave a humorless laugh, "God damn it, you Winchesters are messed up! You can take anything that happens and turn it around to make it out to be your fault."

Then he walked out before Dean could ask him exactly what he meant.

_~_~_~

_It's summer, and so hot that Dean can feel the heat rising from the ground he's sitting on. He can almost see the clouds that will clearly be forming soon, and the rain that will be falling all day long. But he can't really bring himself to care, because he's got bigger problems. _

_He looked down at the lashes torn into his baby brother's back last night by their father, and gently ran the cloth over them again. Sam squirmed and tried to get away but Dean already knew to hold him close since they'd done this so many times before. _

"_Hold still, Sammy." Dean said softly, but there's no threat to the command._

_Sam stilled slowly, his eyes still screwed up with pain. He'd tried to hide the belt strokes last night by pulling his shirt back on, even though he's seven years old and should have known better than that. He'd woken up this morning with his shirt stuck to his back with dried blood, and tried unsuccessfully to hide it from Dean. _

_Now it was 6:30 a.m. and Dean was gently trying to clean the gashes that could possibly have gotten infected by his shirt._

"_I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said softly._

_Dean glanced at his brother, surprised, "Sorry for what?" He asked, "This isn't your fault."_

_Sam nodded, pretending that he believed that. In reality, he had been watching Dean wince as he moved to wash his back. He knew Dean had hurt his arm badly last night, and hadn't meant to make Dean use it. Besides, it was his fault that Dean had gotten hurt in the first place. But Sam would rather not follow that train of thought to the end, so he focused on other things._

"_How much longer 'till school starts again?" He asked, hopefully._

_Dean smiled sadly. Only his little brother could be so excited for school to _start_ rather than stop, although Dean understood that his eagerness for the year to begin had less to do with an enthusiasm for learning than it did with an eagerness to get out of the house for longer each day. During the summer, they had nowhere to go, and as a result they got to see their father drunk more often and living with him was a lot harder than it would be come fall._

"_Still a long while, Sammy." He murmured, and Sammy sighed sadly, focusing his attention on a lady bug that had settled itself on a blade of grass just centimeters from Sam's fingertip. He held his breath, not wanting to scare it away, and moved finger delicately to try to catch it. But it flew off only moments after his finger touched it. Sam sighed and looked back at Dean._

"_Are you sure we can't go to Bobby's again?"_

_Dean smiled remembering the summer before when their Dad had had an 'emergency' and had stashed them at his old friend Bobby's for a week. It had been the greatest week Dean could remember since his mother died, which had been when he was four, so he couldn't remember much of her anyway. Only flashes of her smile, her voice. Occasionally he would remember that she used to bake him a whole batch of cookies every week during the dead of winter, and about how she would never scold him when he would cry, whether from a nightmare, or a thunderstorm, or a monster under his bed. But those were just memories, and distant memories at that._

_He had been to Bobby's recently, and could still remember every detail of his visit there. The old man had been friendly, and one of the kindest people Sam and Dean had ever met in their lives. He hadn't even yelled when Dean had been washing the dishes, and accidentally knocked over a pile of about seven plates in the cupboard, and broken every last one of them, or when Sam had been watching T.V. and had accidentally spilled his grape juice all over the floor. _

_Dean had desperately wanted to return to Bobby's starting from about ten seconds after they left and he knew his brother felt the same way. _

"_I wish we could." He said honestly, answering Sam's question._

_But he knew they probably never would again._

~_~_~_

By the time Dean had felt steady enough to go back to Jess's hospital room, hours had passed. The clock showed it was 5:42 in the morning. Dean probably would've felt more tired, had he not spent most of the day before sleeping off a hangover brought on by drinking every last bottle of beer he could find in Bobby's house.

But when he entered the room however, he found Sam asleep with little Johnny in his arms in a chair besides Jessica's bed. He took this moment of peace to study his brother closer. He was different than he remembered him. His face was harder, more guarded than it had been at twelve. He assumed that Sam had eventually learned, courtesy of their father, not to wear his heart on his sleeve. Considering the fact that Dean had been expecting that, he was surprised by how disappointed he felt by it. He supposed a part of him had hoped that Sam would always remain the same almost-innocent little kid he had been when Dean left. A part of him that had hoped that not nearly as much had changed with Sam as it had with him.

Johnny moaned in his sleep and turned roughly, snuggling closer to Sam, and yanking the bear in as well. Dean couldn't help but smile. The two of them were like one being curled up together like this. He had always known that Sam would grow up to be a great father. Dean had been afraid to have children himself. He knew that he had followed the footsteps of his father down the road to alcoholism, regardless of the fact, that he of all people should know better. He had seen what alcohol could do to a person. Seen how it could turn even his father, who had been his super hero, his indestructible childhood idol into a monster to be feared. But he had still done it.

He had been young. He was only thirteen the first time he got drunk out of his mind. He didn't really want to remember the incident, although it still gave him nightmares to this day. All he could remember was the crushing feeling of failure, the feeling that he should be out there, saving Sammy, but was completely helpless. The knowledge that couldn't do anything to help had been so unbearable that he had been willing to do anything to make it go away.

Sam's moan in his sleep drew him back to the present, and he hastily shook away any other memories that came to mind. Sam blinked slowly and peered up at him. It took Sam a moment to realize who he was.

"Dean?" he whispered.

Dean nodded his head.

Sam sighed and glanced back toward Jess.

"They're going to turn off the machine in a few hours."

He flinched at the sadness in his brother's voice.

"And Dean?"

Dean looked back up.

"We're not staying. We're going back to Lawrence for the funeral."

Dean nodded. He turned away hastily as Sam went back to sleep. Well of course they were going back to Lawrence for the funeral! The thought hurt nevertheless. He walked back around the corner and to the waiting room.

His brother didn't want him at the funeral.

Rejection hurt. Every single time.

**Sorry it's so badly written! Anyway, please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is slightly late! I am so sorry (even though most of you didn't even notice that the chapter was late, but I feel as though I've failed you all!), but I've been kind of busy this week! And I'll still be busy for the next few days, but hopefully I can get back to a regular schedule soon. I go crazy if I don't set a time limit for how long I have to write each chapter, and I have exceeded my limit! Anyway, thank you for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this strange little chapter of this strange little story. **

Chapter 3

Sam sighed as he stared at Jess's body. The machines had been turned off, and Jess was officially dead. And along with her, all Sam's hopes of his son's normal life. He knew it had been too good to be true. His life with Jess had been perfect. A short, happy interlude in the tragedy of his life. It wasn't meant to last. Happiness would never last. He of all people should know that.

He didn't remember his own mother. The only things he knew about her were from stories Dean had told him throughout his life. He didn't really know what mothers were. Only the idea that they were different from fathers. They were everything a father wasn't. While a father's job was always to toughen you up, mothers were the ones who let you stay soft. They were the gentle ones, the ones who understood you better than you thought possible.

Sam had never had any sort of positive relationship with his Dad. Not since his six month birthday when his mother had been killed in that fire. His father had been depressed. He understood that, certainly more now than he had then. But what he didn't understand was how his father could punish his kids for that.

Ever since Johnny had been born, Sam had begun to question things that he had always hoped in some part of his mind were true. Dean had been telling Sam for as long as he could remember that their father was doing the best he could. That he just couldn't handle their mother's death, and the fact that he seemed to blame them, particularly Sam, had nothing to do with them actually being responsible, but more to do with the fact that their father was just insane in his grief.

But now he wasn't so sure. For the last two years, he had begun to realize that it was more difficult than he had ever thought to truly blame his child for anything. Even for something simple, like knocking his plate off the table when they were feeding him, Sam had never really been angry at his child. Not the kind of angry that his father had constantly been throughout his childhood.

He could never imagine blaming Johnny for Jess's death. Even if Johnny was sixteen, had been drunk driving and crashed into their car, killing Jess in the process, he couldn't ever hurt his son the way his own father had hurt him. He could no longer see his father's side of the argument that he had somehow caused his mother's death when he was only a baby.

He felt a tug on his pants leg, and glanced down to see that it was Johnny, staring up at him, his big hazel eyes filled with tears.

"Is Mommy still gone?" he asked, his small voice quivering.

Sam's heart broke, as he knelt to pick up his son, "Yes, Mommy's still gone," He repeated, feeling tears come to his own eyes. He blinked them back as he held Johnny tight to his chest, and his son began to sob.

This, at least, was something that Sam didn't remember having gone through. He had been too young to really miss his mother when she died. Dean had been the one who had been affected the most by her death. But even he didn't _really_ remember their mother. He had been too young. Had known her for too short a time.

The closest Sam felt to losing a relative was when Dean had left. He had only been twelve at the time, and it had crushed him. He wasn't even sure if Dean really was alive for nearly a year after his death. It was only when he heard his father muttering drunkenly about Dean being at Bobby's had Sam really known for sure that his brother had survived.

But that wasn't the same as Jess dying. Sam had known Jess for years, and had been love with her ever since he first laid eyes on her. Now she was gone, and Sam knew she wasn't coming back, there was no hope in his mind to keep him going like with his brother. It was over.

He lifted Johnny gently and moved to the waiting room. Speaking of his brother, he hadn't seen him for a few hours. He remembered back to Dean's hurt expression when he told them he was going back to Lawrence for the funeral. Did Dean not want to come back to Lawrence? Did it hold too many bad memories?

Sam could sympathize with that. The place held bad memories for him too, but he could still find it in him to return. _Maybe it's something else_, he thought, _maybe he doesn't really want to see_ you_. _

The thought hurt, but it was a definite possibility. Why else would Dean never have tried to contact him over the last eleven years. He had to have known where Sam was. He had known about the accident that had claimed their father's life, but he still had not returned to Lawrence. Unlike Sam, who really had no way of knowing exactly where Dean had been staying. Dean had to have known that Sam was in Lawrence.

_But it's not all his fault_, he reminded himself, _you could have tried to call him too_.

He could have called Bobby, like Jess had, to find out if Dean was still there, or if he had moved on. Sam could have done that. But he was too afraid. He didn't want Dean to be ashamed of him. Didn't want him to know that Sam had never tried to tell the police, never tried to have John reported, not even for what he had done to Dean. Dean deserved to get taken care of. He had gotten thrown out of the house at sixteen! But Sam had been too cowardly to say anything, and as a result, Dean had to survive on his own. The one time Sam had an opportunity to take care of Dean, to make up for the years of Dean always having been the one to take care of him, he had given it up.

_This is my fault._

When he reached the waiting room, he glanced around, but found no Dean. What he did find, however, was Bobby. Sam hadn't seen him since that time years and years ago when he and Dean had gone to stay with him for a week while their Dad couldn't. He certainly didn't look very different, Sam couldn't help but notice. The thought made him smile. He slowly moved to approach Bobby.

The older man looked up when Sam stood in front of him. His eyes moved from Johnny in Sam's arms to his face, and Sam could see him making the connections in his mind.

"Sam?" Bobby asked, sounding shocked.

Sam smiled softly, "Hi, Bobby."

Before he could even register what was happening, he was grabbed into a hug by the older man. He froze for a moment, then relaxed into the hug. This was Bobby after all. And even though he'd only known him for sixmeasly days, he was still one of the greatest adults Sam had ever met.

Bobby laughed, "You've really grown up, haven't you, kid?" He said, looking Sam up and down, "You ain't the same skinny-ass little kid anymore!"

Sam smiled, as Bobby's gaze shifted toward his son, who was staring up at the stranger with wide eyes.

"Is this Johnny?' Bobby asked.

Sam nodded, and the older man laughed, taking him in his arms, "Hey, kiddo!"

Johnny watched him cautiously, "Hi."

Bobby looked back to Sam, his expression sobering, "How you holding up?"

San tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage it, "We're going back to Lawrence for the funeral."

Which brought him back to his original reason for coming to see Bobby.

"Have you seen Dean?" He asked.

Bobby nodded, "Yeah, I saw him walk outside a few minutes ago. Seemed upset about something."

So it was Lawrence then. Dean really didn't want to go back.

"Alright." Sam sighed, "Bobby can you watch Johnny for a minute?"

Bobby nodded, and Sam went outside after his brother.

_~_~_~

_Sam sighed as he checked his watch for the hundredth time within the last five minutes. He was finally home, and it was 6:17. Dad usually didn't get home until around 6:30, so that meant that he was safe. At least from his father._

_He had barely set foot inside the house when he was tackled by Dean. _

"_Where the hell have you been?!" His brother demanded, as Sam struggled to catch his brother, "Do you have any freakin' idea how worried I've been about you!"_

"_Dude!" Sam protested, "I was with Jess! I told you I would be with Jess didn't I!"_

_Sam had been asked by Jess to hang out at her house after school. Granted, it was only because they'd been paired up to work together on a science project, but it was better than nothing! And Sam was taking it! He had told Dean, who had given him permission to go, as long as it he was back by 5:45. _

_But Sam had gotten carried away. He had never been to a house that didn't belong to one of his Dad's friends before, and he loved it. Jessica's mother had even laid out a plate of cookies that she had baked from scratch the night before! Just like a television show! It was mind-blowing! He had been so interested in being in a normal house (and not just any normal house, Jess's normal house) that he had temporarily lost track of time, and before he knew it, it was 6 o' clock!_

_He had hurriedly thanked Jessica's mother and said good bye to Jess before running all the way down from Jessica's place to his own, a walk that would normally take about 35 minutes, he had managed to cut to 20 and had just barely reached home on time. _

"_I told you to be home by 5:45!" Dean released him, and Sam stood up, "God, what the freak were you thinking? What if Dad cam home early again? He would _kill_ you, Sam."_

"_I know," Sam murmured, softly, "I know Dean, but I just lost track of the time. I'm really sorry."_

_Dean nodded. _

"_Yeah, alright." He agreed, finally, "Fine. But next time be here on time."_

_And with that, he turned around and walked back upstairs to his room. Sam stayed at the foot of the staircase, vowing that he would never let his dreams of a normal life come between him and his brother again._

_~_~_~_

Sam stepped outside the hospital and circled the perimeter. He had always been surprised by how unexciting the outside of a hospital seemed. Of course, the low level of activity at this particular moment, may have something to do with the fact that it was barely six in the morning.

It took him a while to find Dean, sitting on one of the benches outside the hospital.

"Hey," He said as he approached him.

His brother glanced up, clearly startled. Sam could smell the alcohol on him.

"Oh," He murmured when he saw Sam, "Hi."

"So, why did you run off earlier?"

Dean met his gaze, and Sam was startled to see anger in his eyes.

"Just felt like leaving," He remarked, simply, "Just didn't feel like talking to you anymore. I mean, you know how that feels. You haven't tried to talk to me in eleven years."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Well, it's not like you were so eager to get in touch with me either."

Dean shrugged, and looked away. Sam was more than a little offended. At least Dean knew where he could get in touch with Sam the whole time he was gone! He could have at least called but he hadn't. San knew he shouldn't be angry. Dean was drunk, it wasn't like he was thinking straight, but it still made him slightly defensive that his brother thought he was the only one to blame for the years of silence between them.

"I just thought that maybe it would make a difference to you all those years ago, that your brother was leaving. Maybe you could have done something to stop it! What do you think I would've done if it were you Dad was threatening to kick out?"

Sam felt the guilt rush through him. It was as if Dean had stolen those words out of his own head. Wasn't that what he had been thinking only moment ago?

"Well, maybe you're right," He said softly, "But that doesn't mean that you had to leave and never look back! I mean you could have at least called me once to let me know you were even alive!"

"Right," Dean said sarcastically, "And have Dad answer the phone and beat you to death for trying to talk to me? Do you think that's what I wanted?"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, "Dad died over four years ago! You couldn't come down to Lawrence even once throughout these last couple of years!"

Sam knew that there was no reason to be so angry, or upset, but he couldn't help it. Dean was right. He had let him down. He should have tried to contact Bobby, at least after their father died. He should have stood up for Dean that day eleven years ago. He _should_ have stood up for Dean that day eleven years ago. But he hadn't. And now everything was ruined.

"Why should I have Sam?" Dean demanded, "You didn't seem to give a rat's ass about me! Why should I have some to see if you were okay!"

"Because I wanted to know if you were okay!"

"Well, obviously not anymore!"

This made Sam draw back, "What are you talking about 'not anymore'?"

"You don't seem to want me to go to your wife's funeral! " Dean was still shouting, "You don't seem to care about what happens to me anymore, otherwise you might have thought about actually staying In touch with me from now on!"

"Wait," Sam demanded, "You thought I didn't _want_ you at Jess's funeral?"

This made no sense to him. Sam had all of invited Dean to go, and here Dean was acting all offended because he obviously didn't want to keep in touch with him anymore.

Dean laughed, "You know what, this doesn't even matter. We clearly know nothing about each other anymore. Maybe we should just keep it that way."

And with those words, Dean got up, and walked out of Sam's life. For the second time.

**A.N.: Sorry for so much Dramatic Drunk Dean. And I swear, things will get moving soon! I know the chapters are weird and confusing right now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N./ Again, sorry this took so long but I was really busy. The updates will probably be coming a bit slower from now on. Sorry about that. And sorry this chapter is so short, and kind of goes almost nowhere. But I think you'll still get something out of reading this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.**

Chapter 4

Sam sighed as he went back to the hospital room, Johnny now safely held in his arms and asking for his teddy bear. Sam dug it out of the bag and handed it back to him, his son holding the small stuffed creature tight to his chest, squeezing it so hard, Sam was almost afraid its head was going to pop right off.

He remembered when he had been young and had his own little stuffed bear, that Dean had teased him mercilessly about when he had gotten old enough. He remembered the way that if he let it out of his sight for more than a few minutes he would go crazy with fear that someone had found him and stolen him, and that Sam could never see him again. Despite the situation, Sam had to smile.

But the feeling didn't last too long.

He couldn't believe that he had fought with Dean like that. He knew that it was mostly just the alcohol talking. But he had still gotten angry. There was so much that he wanted to tell Dean. He hadn't seen him in years. He wanted to be happy, but then Jess had died, and now he didn't know what he was going to do.

And there was also the fact that Dean left. He left. He had gone away when Sam was only twelve, and had never bothered to look back. Dean had never tried to check on him, to make sure he was even still alive, not being beaten to death by their father. He knew Dean cared; he knew Dean would never do anything to purposefully put him in danger. But it still hurt that Dean was too afraid of their father to ever check on him.

"Daddy?"

Sam was broken out of his thoughts by Johnny softly saying his name. He sighed, and tried very hard to put a smile on his face for Johnny, but found that he couldn't quite do it. "Yeah?"

"I hungry."

Food. In all the confusion of the past 24 hours, Sam had almost forgotten about the fact that he and Johnny had to eat. It almost felt as if life had practically frozen for the past few hours, and he was holding off on life necessities until things were normal again. Or as normal as things could get, after Jess's death.

"C'mon, kiddo," He murmured softly, "Let's go eat."

_~_~_~_~

_As hard as Dean tried, he couldn't ignore the sounds coming from next door. Their Dad had come home a few minutes ago, and had really been angry at Sam. He couldn't exactly work out why from their father's drunken ramblings, but he knew that it had something to do with their mother it always did. Always did._

_Of all the things their father did to them, this was by far the worst. Dean always tried to protect Sammy, he did, he tried, but his father always managed to drag him to his room, and lock the door. Then force Dean to listen to him torture Sammy in the next room._

_He couldn't take anymore of this, feeling so useless, he was useless, he can't protect anyone! Who was he kidding? What power does he have over their father? Nothing, he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop his mother from dying, and can't stop his dad from killing Sammy, which is what it sounds like he's doing in the other room._

_He and Sam were both unnaturally stoic, and rarely made any sound when their father beat them, but whatever he was doing tonight was causing Sammy to scream, and he couldn't take any more of that. It had to go away! But what can he do? He's so useless, so useless.._

_The bottle of beer he had stolen from his father's room was in his hands. He knew his father would be angry, if he'd notice, which he might, or might not, but at that moment Dean didn't care. The beer he'd had before wasn't doing the trick and it needed to stop, he couldn't take hearing Sammy scream._

_Beer worked on his father, and it would work on him too, if he drank enough, maybe he wouldn't have to hear. Maybe he wouldn't know what a failure he was. Sam's screams were ringing in his ears, and he took a long drink. It burned, and he had to briefly fight the impulse to spit it back up, but forced it down. But it wasn't working. He could still hear it._

_It wasn't fair. Sammy was just a baby, what could he have done to stop his mother from dying? Dean had been older, he should have helped, his father should be punishing him, not his brother. But it was his brother in there, and he couldn't do a thing about._

_In desperation, he drank down more. He could still hear his father shout, his words muffled by the wall in between, and could hear Sam whimpering, crying out from pain. He wanted to run to the door, to force it open, there had to be something he could do to stop this. It had to stop, there had to be something._

_He took another long sip. Sammy was still crying, his sobs were practically vibrating the walls, he could hear them. The beer wasn't working. It wasn't doing a thing, he could still here his brother's pain, knowing that Sammy didn't deserve it, that Dean should be protecting him from it, that Dean had to find a way to stop it, because, Jesus Christ, it had to stop! Somehow it had to stop._

_Dean raised the bottle to his lips again, but nothing came out. It was empty. He could still hear the sounds of his brother yelling in the other room, and it broke his heart. His brother was only nine! No nine year old should sound like that, ever. In fact, no one should ever sound like that. But then he heard the sound of his father leaving._

_He waited, and soon could hear the click of his door being unlocked. As soon as he heard his father go down the stairs Dean got up from the floor. A wave of dizziness hit him, but he fought it all the way to Sam's room. _

_He threw open the door, and his eyes were instantly drawn to his brother curled up in the corner, crying. He could already see several bruises coming in on his back as well as his arms. And there was blood. Several deep cuts had been made to his brothers side, and his stomach._

"_Sammy," he breathed, moving closer._

_Sam looked up, tears still running down his face, one of his eyes had been blackened, and there was a bruise coming in on his cheek. This was his fault, his fault for not being able to protect Sammy. _

"_I'm sorry." he murmured. _

_Sam didn't respond to him, just moved closer, and Dean opened his arms, but before Sam folded into him, he drew back slightly. When he settled into Dean's arms, there was a definite tension between them. Dean stood it for a few moment, holding his injured little brother as he cried, but finally, he couldn's stand it anymore._

"_Why are you so tense?" he asked._

_Sam looked up at him, "You smell like beer." He said quietly._

_~_~_~_~

Bobby sighed as he sat in the waiting room. He wished that Sam and Dean's reunion had gone differently. He had taken Dean in when he showed up on his doorstep starving and begging for a place to stay. He remembered thinking that he couldn't believe John had sunk so low as to actually throw his kids out of the house. Dean had been so messed up, for years following the incident. Hell, he still hadn't completely gotten over it.

But he thought this would be a second chance for them. Maybe they could get back in touch, be brothers again, because Bobby knew that Dean needed it. He needed Sammy to function. Without him, Dean's life practically fell apart.

And he knew Sam relied on Dean too. He remembered when the two boys had been left with him for all of about a week years ago. Even then Sammy never left Dean's side. He would follow him everywhere, anywhere, he idolized his older brother. And Dean would always take the time to entertain Sammy, to make sure he knew exactly what was going on at all times, he was fiercely protective of him. Wouldn't let Bobby anywhere near Sam for the first few days.

But judging by the way Sam had looked when he came back in from talking to Dean; he was guessing things hadn't gone that well. Which meant that both the boys would be miserable until they worked it out, but he knew Dean well, and knew that he wouldn't want to talk to his brother right away. Especially not if he had said something that upset Sammy.

He couldn't believe that the two little kids, who had been the closest pair of siblings he had ever seen, had grown into practically complete strangers. Dean had been afraid to call Sammy for years, afraid that Sam wouldn't want to talk to him.

He sighed again. Those two needed to work it out. They needed each other. They needed to be brothers again.

**A/N: Again, sorry this is so short, but the next chapter will be up as soon as I can.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright. I'm late. Very, very, very late. I offer no excuses! None! And I'm really sorry to carolinesayer because I promised you a new chapter and did not put one up for months and months. In my defense, I honestly did write a chapter, but I changed my mind as to where the story was going, and I had to rewrite. But that's NO EXCUSE for my LAZINESS! I will try to be better with the updates in the future. I have a more secure idea of where the story is going now, so I should be able to write better. **

Chapter 5

Hospital food sucks. Sam couldn't believe that such a mundane thought was in his mind at this moment, but here he was, sitting at the small café, his wife was dead, his brother hated him, and the only thought currently in his head was that hospital food sucked. Well, it really kind of did.

Sam couldn't help but smile as he watched his son's nose scrunch up with disgust as he bit into the goopy, clumpy excuse for mac-and-cheese Sam had bought him. But Johnny ate it anyway forcing it into his mouth, too young to realize that Sam could easily tell that he didn't like the food. Sam knew that his son wouldn't like the food at the hospital and was planning on taking Johnny out to find something somewhere close by, partly because he really needed to get his mind off Jess and the hospital, and partly because he really didn't want to run into Dean again. But Johnny had insisted that they stay "Where Mommy is" and so Sam had taken him to the café.

As his son shakily dipped the spoon into the mixture a second time, Sam gently reached forward and took the spoon from his hands. "We'll get something from the vending machine." He compromised.

He lifted Johnny into his arms and headed toward the hallway. Johnny had always been a bit of a picky eater, starting from when he was just a baby, still eating the Gerber mush or whatever that brand of food was called. Sam, still having the intent of going to college, was working two jobs and hadn't been home as often as he'd have liked to have been. As a result, he found the mess his son made every single time they tried to feed him more endearing than the annoyance Jess found it. Thinking about all the times Jess had playfully ranted to him that it was obviously his fault, because his genes must have been the ones that caused the baby to be so picky brought a smile to his face.

He knew he hadn't been very picky as a kid. Their Dad had once been an excellent mechanic but in the years after his wife's death, his skills had kind of gone down the tube. The owner had switched his jobs and had really let him work there more out of an obligation to a former friend than actual belief in his skill. Still money had been relatively tight, and most of the time it was Dean, then later Sam who made sure that they had enough food to live. That didn't allow for much pickiness.

When he saw the vending machine at the end of the hall, he put his son down, and let him wander toward it, pressing his face against the glass to choose what he wanted. "That!" He announced pointing to a pack of Oreos. Sam hesitated only for a moment before he agreed, Johnny deserved to have whatever he wanted for breakfast, and after everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, it really was the least of their worries.

Sam spotted Bobby walking toward him and sighed. "What's wrong now?" He asked, not really wanting to know. It seemed like the only news he had gotten in the last day had been bad news.

"Dean went back to the house," Bobby said simply, "And you're going after him. That wasn't a request." He added when Sam opened his mouth to argue. "I'll watch your son, and you will get your ass down to my place and talk this out with your brother. You aren't helping anything by staying mad at each other. Go."

Sam wanted to protest, but didn't really see the point. Bobby was right. Hadn't that been the reason he had come down here in the first place? To apologize to Dean? Dean deserved an apology from him, especially considering what had happened the last time he had seen his brother when he was twelve had really been his fault in the first place. He nodded, and knelt down to Johnny's eye level.

"This is Bobby," He said, gesturing to the older man, "You remember I told you about him? I have to go take care of a little problem with someone, and until I'm done Bobby will be watching you, okay?"

Johnny nodded hesitantly, his young eyes looking Bobby up and down. Sam smiled, he remembered what Bobby had looked like to him the first time he had seen him. It was a bit odd how intimidating the man had looked back then, especially considering that Bobby was a lot kinder to them than John had ever been throughout his life. "Don't worry," He assured his son, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, and standing to leave.

"Don't hurry back." Bobby said, seriously, as Sam walked past him and down the hallway.

_~_~_~_~_~_~

_It was passed midnight, and Sam was in Dean's room, sitting in the dark, back pressed against the door. He could hear his father's snores loud and clear through the door, and knew he was asleep. But Sam had to admit, he was still too scared to fall asleep. His father hadn't come to see them today. Not only had he not beaten them, but he hadn't even shown up in their room. He hadn't gotten anywhere close to them, and Sam was worried that it could be coming soon. _

_He glanced up at the bed. Dean was awake. He had spent enough time with his brother to know when he was really asleep and when he was faking it, and this was definitely the latter. His brother was just as nervous as he was, but he didn't want to show it. Dean never wanted to show that he was afraid, but it didn't mean that Sam didn't know. He always knew. _

"_Dean." He finally whispered. His brother didn't move, keeping up the charade, Dean didn't even twitch at the sound of his name. Sam sighed in exasperation. His brother was always a very thorough liar, Sam should know, he had seen him lie often enough. But did he really think that he cold fool his own brother so easily. Didn't he know that Sam knew him better than that?_

"_Dean," Sam said again, "I know you're awake. Just look at me."_

_There was a slight pause in father's snoring, but it was long enough for every muscle in Sam's back to tense and for him to momentarily stop breathing. But the obnoxious noise continued, and Sam took a breath, his heart still beating too fast, and he was still unable to swallow the fear in the back of his throat._

"_Dean?" He murmured, his voice cracking._

_Finally, Dean turned in his bed to look at him. "Yeah?" Dean demanded in a low tone, "I'm trying to sleep."_

_Sam was silent. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to admit to Dean how afraid he was to close his eyes right now, but he really couldn't think of anything else to do. But Dean read it in his face, like he always did, because Sam knew that Dean was a better brother that he would ever admit to, not that he had a problem admitting that he was a pretty great brother most of the time. _

_Sam moved closer, sitting on the floor near Dean's bed, but still not crawling into his own. "Sam, it's alright." Dean assured him, "Dad's asleep. He's not gonna do anything. Just go to bed."_

_Sam knew Dean was just trying to help, but his fear morphed into anger, and he spoke up before he had the chance to stop himself, "How do you know he won't do anything? How do you know anything about Dad? 'Cause I know you said the same thing last week, and I still have the bruises from that beating. You were wrong then, why should I trust you?"_

_Sam saw the hurt flash across his brother's face and those words, but he couldn't quite bring himself to take them back. _

"_What?" Dean whispered harshly, "You think you're the only one Dad's after? You think he's never beat me? I've taken punches for you plenty of times! Do you know how often I've gotten hurt protecting your sorry ass?"_

_Well, that much was true, Sam thought feeling immensely guilty. Dean took it upon himself to protect Sam whenever possible, and he had gotten badly hurt plenty of times, taking the heat for what Sam had done. He knew his brother had every right to resent him for it_

"_I'm sorry." He whispered, listening for the sound of the snores before adding, "I'm scared."_

_Dean nodded, looking slightly guilty himself, although Sam thought that there was no reason for that. Dean was right, Sam was the one who had gone out of line."I know." Dean said back, "But it'll be fine. Just go back to bed."_

_Sam glanced back at the shut door and lowered his voice before saying "Okay."_

_He crawled back into his own bed, and stared at the ceiling. That was one thing he was grateful for that had come out of this mess. He and his brother were close enough, that even when they fought, it was easy to forgive one another. It was hard to imagine anything that could really break them apart. _

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Dean sighed as he rubbed his head again. He knew he should be drunk, but he certainly didn't feel it. Maybe it was the years he had spent, drinking plenty more than he knew was even remotely acceptable, but he hadn't been able to really feel the effects of the alcohol lately unless he drunk much more that he used to. Or maybe it was because he drank so often nowadays that he couldn't really even tell the difference anymore.

Either way, he didn't feel drunk now. He did feel bad about what he had said to his brother. He hadn't' meant it. And he really had wanted to see his little brother in the years while he was gone. He couldn't count the number of times he had lifted the phone to his ear, his fingers hovering over the numbers, itching to dial the memorized number, his brother's face in his mind's eye. But he could never do it. And yes, part of it was because he hadn't wanted his father to hurt his brother for talking to him. But he also couldn't help but think that it would be better if he just cut it off with his brother.

"Dean?"  
Sam. Dean turned in shock. He hadn't even realized that Sam had walked into the room right behind him. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought. He looked his brother up and down, and now he noticed things he hadn't noticed the first time around. Sammy looked so sad and more tired than he had ever seen him. He supposed that had a lot to do with Jess's death. He knew nothing of their relationship, but what he remembered of that girl were all good things. She would have been good for Sam. But now she was gone.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. And he was. The first day in eleven years that they've seen each other, and they have to have a big argument. No, now Dean was going to make things right with his brother. Jess had been on the right track when she arranged this meeting. Dean was dying to see his brother again, and they were going to make up somehow.

"No," Sam shook his head, "I'm sorry. None of this was your fault."

Dean knew that wasn't true but he didn't push it. As long as his brother was willing to put that last fight behind them, then so was he. "It wasn't your fault either." A true statement and one he knew his brother needed to hear. He knew Sam, knew what he needed, Sam always took the things he said to heart, no matter how thoughtless or stupid they were.

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it. There was a moment of silence before he tried again, "The funeral," He began, "In Lawrence. I wanted you to come. "

That was why he had told him about it in the first place. Oh. Dean thought about funerals. He had never really been to one, if you excluded his mother's since that was really too long ago for him to remember, but he knew what they would be like. He should go to Jess's funeral. Especially since she wouldn't have died if she hadn't been driving out to see him in the first place. And he knew how much this would mean to Sam.

"Okay." He said to Sam, "I'll go."

And Sam smiled at him. It was a small smile, and not really a very happy one at that, but a smile was a smile. Things were getting better between them. And that was a very good sign. Bobby was right. Jess was right. They needed each other.

Dean thought back to the way things had been before. When he and Sam had been practically inseparable. He would go to the funeral. And, eventually, things would get better.

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, yeah cheesy. I am a cheesy, cheesy writer. I love cheese! :)**


End file.
